


A Peculiar Sett of Circumstances

by Gearsmoke, Scmnz



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale is soft for Crowley, Aziraphale's loyalty to heaven vs. his love of Crowley, Badgers, Bittersweet, Book Tv fusion, Community: Do It With Style Events, Crowley is soft for animals, Crowley's plans biting him in the ass, Do It With Style Good Omens Reverse Bang, Fluff, Happy Ending, Historical, Humor, M/M, Mild Angst, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), The bookshop, Wild animals, accidentally animal parents, fic with art, off screen animal death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:20:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29181666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gearsmoke/pseuds/Gearsmoke, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scmnz/pseuds/Scmnz
Summary: Crowley slithered back into the sett to collect the orphaned badger cubs. There was only one place he felt truly safe, and so it was the only place he could think to take them.***Crowley looked beseeching, his coat bundled up in his arms. Poking out of the bundle were three small snouts with gleaming eyes staring back at him. Whatever confrontation Aziraphale had been imagining after a day of stewing in his doubts, this was not it.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 82
Collections: Do It With Style Good Omens Reverse Bang





	A Peculiar Sett of Circumstances

**_February 1814, London, the bookshop_ **

Aziraphale held up his freshly signed copy of Sense and Sensibility to admire it in the light streaming through the bookshop window. He wiggled happily, and turned to place it in it’s new rightful spot in his incomprehensible shelving system. 

The bell at the shop's door jingled, and Aziraphale turned, beaming. The shop was closed and the door was locked, meaning this must be a non-human visitor. His smile faded and became more forced as he turned the corner. It was not Crowley, as he had hoped, but Gabriel with a look of disgust as he looked around Aziraphale’s beloved shop. 

“Ah, Gabriel. To what do I owe this… pleasure?” Aziraphale asked, hoping his voice did not sound too insincere. 

Gabriel did not appear to notice, too caught up in his own importance to take note of such small details. “Aziraphale!” He clapped him on the shoulder far too hard. “I’m here to warn you.”

“Warn me?”  
  


“Apparently the demon Crowley is up to some nefarious plot in the area.”

“Oh really?” Aziraphale fought back a hopeful smile. It had been a few years since their paths had crossed. He could show him the new additions to the bookshop’s collection, and they could share that lovely red wine he’d picked up in Venice when he’d been there last. 

“Yes. I’ve heard he’s killed several workers down at the construction of the new cathedral in Clifton. Worse, he’s been tainting the site to prevent holiness from taking root.”

Aziraphale froze. “Killed? But he wouldn’t-” he caught himself just in time, “That’s not his usual way of causing mischief.” That didn’t sound anything like the Crowley he thought he knew, the demon who had brought him chocolates and saved him from losing his bookshop only fourteen years ago. 

“Wouldn’t?” Gabriel raised his eyebrow. “Aziraphale, he’s a demon! They’re vicious evil creatures without an ounce of compassion between them!” 

Aziraphale could argue that the archangels didn’t have an ounce of compassion either, but still he was thrown. Had he been too trusting in Crowley as of late? Had he been fooled in some long con? Something must be seriously wrong with him, if he trusted Crowley more than his superiors (even if it was Gabriel). How much could a demon’s true nature be expected to change, after all? 

He took a deep breath, trying to settle his emotions and conflicted thoughts. “Thank you for the warning, Gabriel. I will look into it and put an end to this.”

Gabriel nodded and vanished in a blast of air which knocked several books from their shelves.

“Rude,” Aziraphale muttered, before sighing and collapsing into the nearest chair, too dejected to even re-shelve his books. Was he foolish for hoping that there was nothing more than a misunderstanding to “put an end to”? It was certainly foolish of him to feel betrayed; this was his ancestral enemy after all. He honestly didn’t know what to think, and the very fact that he had those doubts disturbed him too. 

***

**_Clifton_ **

Crowley hid in the bushes, waiting for his carefully concocted plan to go into motion. So far he’d successfully kept construction in the densely wooded area from going forward without anyone getting hurt, but this would be “the big one” which would put a stop to development here once and for all. 

In his notes to head office he had written something about “preventing more consecrated ground” and “tainting a potential holy site with sin and darkness”, which was plenty of motivation for any demon, he reassured himself. It _certainly_ had nothing to do with a rare flower that reminded him of Aziraphale’s eyes and which was quickly disappearing due to human development in the area. Absolutely not. 

The sound of hoofbeats in the distance drew his attention. That must be the wagon arriving with the materials they needed to fix the foundations he had sabotaged. If they couldn’t finish those foundations, the rest of construction was done for. It was time. 

Crowley shifted into snake form and slithered into the rough dirt path to wait. The sound of hooves drew closer, and soon the horse drawn wagon rounded the corner into the clearing. 

Crowley reared up, fangs bared and hissing. The startled horses froze. With a small miracle he cracked their hitch. If he could make them bolt, then he could get rid of the supplies as the driver chased down the horses. He pretended to strike, lunging at the horses, hoping to scare them into action, and that’s where everything went wrong. 

Oh, the horses ran all right, breaking free from the cart. They ran _towards_ Crowley and the construction site. With a solid kick, one sent him flying into the woods. He landed with a thud in a heap of leaves, a disoriented and sore pile of coils. In the distance, shouting and collapsing stone could be heard. Crowley groaned, coiling tighter around himself. He really hated horses. 

When the panicked ruckus calmed down, he slowly slithered out of the underbrush to assess the damage, blessing his bad luck. 

Hoofprints led away in two different directions, one set heading toward the cathedral site, the other charging deeper into the forest, away from the path. Crowley hissed in frustration. As much as he disliked horses, he liked the idea of abandoning two of them wandering the wilderness to die even less. He shifted into human form and followed the tracks to the construction site.

He was stunned by what he saw. Rubble was strewn about. Panicked workmen struggled to remove the wagon, which had been dragged along, from a supporting wall without causing the structure to collapse further. It seemed likely that if construction on the site was to continue, it would need to start again almost from scratch. 

He felt his stomach turn as his eyes landed on a pair of legs sticking out from under the rubble. Without thinking, Crowley rushed over, and with a snap, the collapsed stone lifted, revealing a (thankfully) still breathing man. Crowley let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, a sigh of relief. The human’s injuries weren’t as bad as they could have been, but his legs were badly broken. _That_ hadn’t been what Crowley intended by scaring the horses. 

He helped the man sit up, at the same time scanning the area for any other unintended consequences. 

“I told them this land was cursed, but they didn’t believe me,” the man muttered.

“What?” Crowley returned his attention to him.

“Things like this,” he gestured at the damaged construction site around them, “keep happening. I told the foreman and priests that this site was cursed and we should move somewhere else. They didn’t listen, of course. No one listens to the workers right?” 

Crowley patted his arm awkwardly, a new idea forming in his mind. “Which one is the foreman.” 

The workman pointed, and Crowley got up to go speak to him. He turned back to look at the injured man, considering. He _owed_ Aziraphale a blessing, and if Hell asked he could claim he helped the man to ensure someone would spread word that the land had been cursed and that the church had been beaten. With a snap, he ensured that his legs would heal smoothly and quickly, with no further complications. 

Normally he’d handle things with more artistry. But the plan had already gone so far off the rails that he would rather get it over with as fast as possible, leaving less chance for anything else to go wrong and bite him in the arse. He sidled up to the foreman, lowering his sunglasses to reveal his demonic eyes. 

The foreman looked up from tying up the rogue horse, and his eyes met Crowley’s. The man froze, dropping the rope from his suddenly sweaty hands. 

Crowley whispered in his best menacing voice, “You should heed the warnings you’ve been given, lest even more should go wrong.”

The foreman nodded, swallowing hard. Crowley raised his sunglasses back into place. “See that everything is cleared from this area and your men are all gone within the next fortnight, or no one will like the dire consequences that come next.” _Least of all me, because I’ll have to think of some dire consequences._ He sauntered into the forest, leaving the stunned foreman to scramble.

The second horse would be trickier to track down, especially now that time had passed and the trail gone cold. His snake tongue flicked out, tasting the air for the smell of frightened horse. He followed the scent deeper into the heart of the forest. Here the smell mixed with something all too familiar and unpleasant: blood. Crowley’s eyes widened and he quickened his pace through the underbrush. 

In a small clearing he saw a badger, obviously dead, a short way from the opening to her sett. She had been trampled by the terrified horse, which was nowhere in sight. Crowley closed his eyes, feeling his heart sink. This was all his fault, and he was too late to save her. 

It was bad enough that his backfired plan had hurt a workman, but this was harder to take. Unlike humans, animals had no malice, no prejudice. And yet, they so often suffered for human’s fallibility, from Noah’s Ark to losing their homes to human expansion. And this time, he had added to that suffering. It didn’t happen often but he always felt it strongly when his mischief led to animals getting harmed. Mostly, he just nudged humans in the wrong direction, and their nature took care of the rest. Animals were only ever innocent victims.

He scooped up her body, intending to bury her at least, and felt his heart break even more. She was clearly nursing. His eyes fell on the sett as the realization hit him that there must be cubs in there. 

He laid the mother badger to rest, and returned to the sett’s entrance. He’d have to investigate, and see if there were any other adult badgers living in this group who could care for the babies.  
  


With a heavy heart, he shifted into snake form, and slid into the den stealthily. Most animals feared him, both in human and snake form, sensing what he was. He didn’t want to scare the cubs, or worse, scare away any remaining adults.

His eyes adjusted to the dark quickly as he poked his head into the main chamber. Three cubs looked back at him, all alone. They looked to be about eight weeks old at the most, perhaps just starting to be weaned. One approached him curiously, braver than the others, and sniffed him. Crowley flinched from the snuffling at first, before cautiously nuzzling the cub back. Discorporation by baby badgers would be a hard one to explain. 

He slithered from the sett to curl up nearby, watching for adult badgers returning, and guarding the burrow from any predators who might come to take advantage of the abandoned cubs. Having taken their mother from them, it was the least he could do. 

***

**Clifton, nightfall**

Night fell with no return of any other badgers, and the cubs were crying in hunger. Crowley was out of options. Guilt gnawed at him, a feeling he usually pushed away as particularly undemonlike. Anxiety also crawled down his serpentine spine. Healing the workman, he could probably explain away if Hell checked up on him. Rescuing a litter of badger cubs, less so. 

He slithered back into the sett to collect the babies. There was only one place he felt truly safe, and so it was the only place he could think to take them.

***

  
  


**_The Bookshop, 2 AM_ **

With a huff Aziraphale set down his book on the stack of others he had tried to focus on reading that night. As much as he tried, he couldn’t get the accusations against Crowley out of his mind. Betrayal, confusion, and doubt were all swirling together. And worse, he wasn’t entirely sure whether those feelings were more directed at Crowley or at Heaven, a thought which filled him with an uneasy shame. 

Restlessly, he picked up a volume of Shakespeare and flicked through it aimlessly, before remembering that this particular book had been gifted to him by Crowley. He tossed it aside as if burned. He scowled.

Just then he heard a thumping at the locked shop door. It couldn’t be a customer this late at night, thank heavens. Aziraphale reached out with his ethereal senses, and tensed up when he felt Crowley’s presence. He _really_ didn’t want to face him right now. He had reactivated the wards on the shop to keep demons from entering, so Crowley couldn’t get in unless he let him. Resolutely, Aziraphale picked up a book, determined to ignore him. 

There was a clatter of pebbles against the bookshop windows. Aziraphale could be extremely stubborn, but so could Crowley.

“Angel?” Crowley sounded desperate, pleading. “ M not sure what I’ve done to make you mad at me, but whatever it is I’m sorry. Please, this is important!” 

Aziraphale did his best to ignore him, but in hardly any time at all he was flinging open the bookshop door, candle thrust before him like a sword, and ready to give the demon a piece of his mind.

Whatever lecture he had been preparing was stopped short by the scene which met his eyes. 

Crowley looked beseeching, his coat bundled up in his arms. Poking out of the bundle were three small snouts with gleaming eyes staring back at him. Whatever confrontation he had been imagining after a day of stewing in his doubts, this was not it. “What?” 

“I need your help.” Crowley turned a very good impression of Aziraphale’s own pout and puppy-dog eyes against him. The badgers squirming in his arms added greatly to this effect, dealing the final blow to his resolve. 

Despite himself, Aziraphale felt himself softening, the annoyed furrow of his brows easing away. With a sigh, he waved away the wards on the shop and opened the door. “You might as well explain what’s going on, at least.”

Crowley darted in before Aziraphale could change his mind. Aziraphale followed, summoning a strong drink for himself. He would need it, if the state Crowley was in were anything to judge by.

Crowley settled into the couch, still holding the baby badgers close to his chest. “They’re hungry,” he said. He looked around the room, worry clear on his face as he idly scratched one of the badgers’ ears. Whether he was trying to soothe them or himself was unclear.

Aziraphale considered this, and went into the shelves to grab a book on animal care. He returned and began to page through it. Giving Crowley a _look_ , he continued, “I think you’d better explain why, exactly, you’re at my shop in the middle of the night with hungry badger cubs, don’t you?” 

As Crowley described the series of events, Aziraphale felt his mind settle. This sounded far more like the Crowley he knew than Gabriel’s account had. He didn’t like that he trusted Crowley’s version of the story far more than Heaven’s, but it did put his whirling thoughts in clearer order, and softened the edge of his irritation at the demon. 

“So you brought them here?”

“Yeah, well. I was hoping you could look after them, they’d be safe here and…” Crowley gave Aziraphale a look which was a heartbreaking mix of hopeful and anxious. “Please, I’ll owe you! I can take care of that miracle in Scotland you’ve been dreading.” 

Aziraphale looked at the cubs. As cute as they (and unfortunately, Crowley) were, they would wreak havoc in the shop and might even damage his beloved books. “I’ll think about it. For now, let’s get them fed.” He set aside his book. “This says a mixture of goat's milk and raw egg might do, if they’ll drink it from a saucer.

Aziraphale bustled off to prepare the mixture, leaving Crowley to begin to relax, feeling somewhat calmer and like things might work out for the first time in hours. 

Aziraphale cleared books from the floor to set down the saucers. Crowley put down the badgers he had been cradling in his arms. 

They began to snuffle around and investigate. When they came to the saucers, the bravest of the badgers pawed at the dish curiously, splashing milk everywhere. Aziraphale groaned, and Crowley barely stifled his laughter, earning him a half-joking glare from the angel. 

Aziraphale watched the almost parental way Crowley was observing the baby badgers as they investigated the food, and felt a fond smile form on his face despite himself. It was short lived, as one of the badgers finally worked out how to drink the milk, submerging her entire snout and splattering it everywhere. Crowley burst out laughing, and Aziraphale struggled not to follow suit despite his annoyance. 

“Alright, I’ll take care of them,” he said finally, wiping mirthful tears from his eyes. “But you owe me.”  
  
[](https://i.imgur.com/yz046Nm.jpg)

[Click to see bigger](https://i.imgur.com/yz046Nm.jpg)

***

When Crowley sauntered into the bookshop a few days later, it looked almost exactly the same as it had before he’d brought the badgers. Almost, but not quite. There was a little door now, where one hadn’t been before. “Angel,” he called into the shop. When he got no answer, he opened the new door and peeked inside.

The room inside was earthier than the rest of the shop. Clearly miracled and separate from the building, judging by the damp dirt walls and floor. There was a large pile of sawdust in one corner, for the badger cubs to burrow in, and another corner had several tartan blankets that made Crowley wrinkle his nose in fond distaste. 

Aziraphale was there, with saucers of the milk mixture, cooing over the baby badgers and praising them as they ate, rather more neatly than when Crowley had last seen them. 

“Angel?”

Aziraphale straightened up, blushing slightly and dusting off his immaculate waistcoat. He did his best to look dignified. The effect was rather spoiled by the badger Crowley recognized as the brave one rolling over and chewing on Aziraphale’s shoelaces. 

“Milton!” Aziraphale said reproachfully. The cub looked unrepentant.

“Milton?” Crowley raised an eyebrow. 

“Is that a problem?” he sniffed.

“Nah, nah, ‘s fine.” Crowley said, watching the two other cubs, done with their food, started play fighting. “What are you calling those two then.”

“She’s Marlow, and that’s Moore.”

“Of course.” 

Marlow and Moore tumbled over into the sawdust, sending a puff of it up into the air. Milton looked up from Aziraphale’s shoes and scampered to join them. Crowley and Aziraphale watched them, a companionable silence forming between them. 

Some time later Aziraphale glanced over at him. “Did you need anything, by the way?” 

“Just checking in to see how they were settling in, see if I could get them anything to make them more comfortable in your stuffy shop.” 

“How sweet.” 

Crowley looked alarmed. “Wuh, Nuh! I’m a demon, we don’t do sweet.”

Aziraphale shook his head. “Of course not dear, what was I thinking?” 

***

To Aziraphale’s surprise Crowley returned only a couple of weeks later. While he knew Crowley had some capacity for kindness it never ceased to amaze him. It was quite charming really. Heaven always made it a point to emphasize that demons couldn’t love, and couldn’t care about anything. And yet here Crowley stood in his shop, with packages in his hands and a slightly guilty expression. 

Aziraphale gestured for him to sit. “To what do I owe this pleasure?” Unlike with Gabriel, it was genuinely a pleasure to see him again so soon. Usually he saw the demon once or twice a century, not several times within the same month. 

“Just wanted to see how Milton and the others were getting on.” He sunk into the chair, handing Aziraphale one of the packages he held. It was wine, a nice vintage. “To thank you for taking them in.”

Aziraphale smiled and accepted it. “And the other one?”

Crowley blushed and stumbled over his words. “A soft toy, y’know, in case they’re getting lonely missing their mother. And so they don’t forget they’re supposed to be little badgers instead of angels or people.” 

Aziraphale fought the urge to coo over Crowley and how adorable that was, the way he had been secretly talking to the cubs.

“Oh how-” He stopped himself from saying kind, partially for Crowley’s sake, and partially for his own because he still didn’t know quite what to think. “How thoughtful.” 

Crowley looked away, probably guessing what Aziraphale nearly said. “‘s nothing. Can’t have a bunch of holy badgers, that’d be ridiculous.”

“Of course.” He frowned then. “You make a good point actually.”

“Do I?”

“We don’t want them imprinting on humans. They need a lot of one-on-one attention now, but we’ll have to back off once they’re weaned.” Aziraphale frowned, looking thoughtful.

***

Crowley’s visits to “check-in'' continued to be regular. His air of nonchalance failed to hide his genuine concern for the young animals and his eagerness to help. Aziraphale smiled to himself as he heard the shop bell jingle, announcing yet another visit from the demon. 

Aziraphale returned to gently scolding Moore and wiping her long snout clean of the milk she had splashed everywhere. On the one hand, it would be a great relief when the cubs were weaned, and certainly less messy. But on the other hand, Aziraphale dreaded it because that was the point he and Crowley had agreed it would be best to pull back and be less hands on, so that the cubs would revert back to being wild. 

Crowley entered the badger room and caught sight of the mess Moore had caused. “Mischievous little thing isn’t she?” He cackled.

“Yes, just like you.” Aziraphale responded, but there was no heat in the jab. 

“Thank you.” Crowley grinned.

Aziraphale looked up, and saw that Crowley's arms were laden with plants. He raised a quizzical eyebrow. 

“Thought it’d be good for them, to have a bit more nature in here.” He shrugged, trying to make it seem like just an afterthought, no big deal. Aziraphale didn’t buy it. 

“Where’d you nick those from?” he asked, releasing the squirming Moore. She darted forward and joined the others in sniffing curiously at Crowley’s legs.

“Didn’t. Grew them.”

“You garden?” 

Crowley shrugged, arranging the plants around the room. “‘s just a hobby.”

Aziraphale felt his heart skip a beat. Imagining Crowley fussing over plants the way he was fussing over these cubs was quite a cute image, and the whole thing made Aziraphale more emotional than he felt comfortable admitting even to himself. 

Once the plants were placed to both of their satisfaction Crowley settled onto the dirt floor next to where Aziraphale sat primly. The babies, who had been following him around the room, got bored and went back to playing. 

Aziraphale’s hand brushed absently against Crowley’s before he caught himself and pulled it back. Aziraphale looked about the room for something to comment on and distract from his mistake. His eyes landed on the bare, dark ceiling. “Do you think they miss the sky?”

“Hrrg?” Crowley said intelligently. 

Aziraphale gestured at the ceiling with the hand which still tingled from the accidental contact. 

Crowley frowned up at the ceiling, before snapping, replacing it with glass. 

“Oh!” Aziraphale gasped, suddenly looking up at the stars. “Thank you.” 

“‘s’nothing.” Crowley muttered, looking away from his smile with a faint blush. 

***

Crowley spent one long and tiring afternoon digging a proper sett for the cubs to grow up in. They watched him with fascination. After a while all three cubs began to mimic him, and joined in the digging. By the time the new sett was finished, Crowley felt confident that they would be able to dig a burrow themselves, if they needed to once in the wild. 

He exited the room, leaving the exhausted cubs napping. 

“Crowley! You’re filthy!” Aziraphale cried, shooing him away from his couch and books. 

“I’m tired,” Crowley whined. “Let me lie down.”

“You will not be getting all that dirt around my shop!” Aziraphale unceremoniously picked up Crowley, and carried him from the shop.

“Angel wait!”

He was deposited by a water pump and given an expectant look. 

“Aziraphaaalee?”

“If you want back into my shop, you had better clean up.” Aziraphale crossed his arms. 

“Why should I? I have my own place.”

“I’ve got mulled wine.”

They stared at each other, until Crowley reluctantly stepped beneath the water pump. Aziraphale looked smug.

“I’m only doing this to take advantage of your soft couch and wine.”

“Naturally.”

***

Aziraphale eyed the trays in Crowley’s hands suspiciously. “What’s that, and why should I let it into my shop?”

“The cubs’re nearly weaned, which means we want them to start to learn to forage. I thought this was a good first step.” The trays were filled with the cub’s normal milk mixture, with nuts, fruits, and meat paste soaking in it. 

Aziraphale wrinkled his nose. “It doesn’t look nice to eat at all.”

“Yeah well, you aren’t a badger are you?” 

“Fine, but _you’re_ cleaning up after them.” Aziraphale stepped aside to let him, surreptitiously miracling the trays not to spill. 

As soon as the door to their room opened the badgers perked up, sniffing the air and running up to the pair from the pile they were sleeping in. Crowley set the trays down and stepped aside with a self-satisfied grin.

Marlow dove in first, snout straight into the milk and paws scrabbling at the contents. Milton quickly joined in with great enthusiasm. Moore approached the second tray more cautiously, but seemed delighted by what she found, and soon gobbled up the mushy grapes and peanuts with as much enthusiasm as the others.

“I told you they’d like it, angel.” 

“Yes well, you’re still cleaning up after them. We really should have taught them better table manners.” He sniffed.

“What do you mean, this is exactly how you went after those crepes in Paris,” Crowley teased.

“How dare you! I was nothing like this. You’re one to talk anyway, with how you handled those oysters back in Rome. Absolutely barbaric,” Aziraphale jabbed back, but Crowley didn’t miss the playful glint in his eyes. 

They bantered back and forth as the cubs played with their food. Crowley watched them with a faint sense of pride. And while Aziraphale acted scandalized, he was secretly feeling very fond of both the badgers and of the demon beside him. If getting messy was the only way Crowley could get away with doing good and being kind, Aziraphale didn’t mind indulging in that.

****

The time had officially come to decrease contact with the cubs, since they were weaned and needed time to learn how to be proper badgers before being released back into the wild. 

Crowley suspected Aziraphale would have a harder time with this than he was letting on, considering he had essentially become a surrogate mother in the past few months. And that was why he was currently hurrying to the bookshop with boxes of warm freshly baked madeleines in his arms.

His heart sank when he threw open the shop door and called out “Angel!” only to get no response.

His eyes narrowed as he saw the door to the badger sett was slightly ajar. He crept forward and peered in.

Curled up in the pile of sawdust were all three cubs, snuggled up against a huge, golden badger, fast asleep.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley whispered, disbelieving. The golden badger opened his eyes, and met Crowley with a familiar, stubborn gaze. Crowley sighed. This clearly couldn’t be a permanent solution, but for now, while they got used to the idea of letting go of the babies, it would do.

He shifted into snake form, and slithered across the room to join the cuddle pile. 

***

Aziraphale looked at the pails Crowley had brought into the shop with horror. “ _What_ is that?!”

“Worms in soil. It’s what they’ll eat in the wild.”

“You’re doing this on purpose to vex me, you awful fiend.”

Crowley shrugged. “Possibly.” 

“It’s filthy! Don’t you dare get it on my books or I’ll-”

“What, smite me?”

Aziraphale frowned. It shouldn’t of course, Crowley was his adversary, but the idea of smiting him made him feel queasy. “Of course not, but-”

“Relax, angel.” Crowley sauntered past him, leaving him still conflicted. 

He was letting his fondness for the demon grow too strong, he knew that. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t _safe._ But through all this, he was seeing clearly that Crowley wasn’t what Heaven had said demons were. He was mischievous certainly, but he was also caring, and decent. 

He heard the sound of the muddy mixture being poured down the tube they’d installed into the badgers’ room to feed them without contact. Then, almost too soft to hear: “Oopss.”

“CROWLEY!”

***

The badger cubs were now seven months old, and although it was difficult, their caretakers knew they were ready to be released the next evening. For their last night in the bookshop, Crowley had brought them all their favorite foods, beetle grubs, pears, and various other things. 

He had also set up a dining table for him and Aziraphale on the glass roof of the room, from which they could watch them play as they ate.

Aziraphale was a bit misty-eyed as they watched the three nearly-adult badgers scamper and tumble through the tunnels of their makeshift sett. “I just wish we could keep them safe with us here.” 

Crowley gently placed his hand over his. “I know Angel, I do too. But they aren’t pets. They’ll be happier out there, where they belong.”

“I know, I know. I’m being silly. We’ve just had them for so short a time. I’ll miss them.” What he didn’t say was that he’d also miss the extra time all of this was letting him spend with Crowley.

“Yeah,” said Crowley, eyes focused on the playing youngsters. “I’ll miss it too.” And Aziraphale suspected Crowley was also leaving the same things unsaid. 

They watched together, feeling the same bittersweet joy. They had done it. The tiny orphaned cubs were no longer tiny, and were ready to face the big wide world. They couldn’t keep them, and they couldn’t protect them anymore, but that just meant they’d done their job well.

***

It was ironic, Crowley thought, that he was returning the badgers to their old sett in a horse-drawn wagon. Aziraphale steered while Crowley sat in the back with the crates that held the badgers. The horses, like all others, were terrified of him. Crowley could only be thankful that the badgers never had been.

At last, too soon, they arrived. 

Aziraphale secured the nervous horses to a tree, before coming around to help Crowley lift the crates. They took Milton first, because he was still the bravest. They placed the crate with the exit facing an entrance to the sett. Standing back they opened the crate with a string. 

Milton’s nose poked out, sniffing the air, smelling the almost forgotten scent of home. He was more cautious than usual, edging forward so that now his whole snout hung out of the box. Still, the call of the fresh soil was too much to resist. He looked back for just a second, as if seeking reassurance, before disappearing into the tunnel before him.

Aziraphale held Crowley’s hand tightly as they positioned Marlow’s crate in the same place. Aziraphale’s lip wobbled as he saw that Crowley, too, was holding back tears. It took Marlow a bit longer to disappear into the sett, but she had the reassuring smell of her brother to help move him forward. 

Moore didn’t budge once her crate was open, not even sticking her nose out to sniff like Milton had.

“Funny thing,” Aziraphale murmured, stroking the top of the crate gently. “You’re free now, sweetheart.” 

Crowley nudged the back of the box gently. “Go on then, join your siblings.”

They waited, but Moore didn’t budge. Crowley sighed and tucked his sunglasses into his pocket. 

“What are you doing dear?”

Rather than answer, Crowley shifted into snake form. He slithered out in front of the crate and peered in. Moore stared back, eyes showing her recognition. Crowley turned and slithered into the sett. A couple of seconds later he heard the sound of claws against the damp soil. She was following him.

A minute or so later Crowley returned to Aziraphale’s side, carefully replacing his sunglasses. “They’re making themselves at home in there. They seem happy.”

“Good, that’s good.” Aziraphale sniffed. 

Crowley squeezed his hand gently, raising his other hand to snap at the same time Aziraphale did. Looking at each other, both snapped, blessing the sett doubly. 

“Come on, angel, let's leave them to it. I’ve got some brandy we can have back at the bookshop.”

Aziraphale gave him a rather watery smile, which was returned in kind. “That sounds lovely, dear.”

***

**_Epilogue: South Downs Cottage, 2030_ **

Aziraphale hummed to himself as he placed a freshly baked pie on the window sill to cool, next to a vase of flowers Crowley had found somewhere which he said matched his angel’s eyes. Crowley had gone to town to buy some gardening supplies, but he had promised to be back in time for tea. 

He heard the crunch of Crowley walking up the drive, fashionably late. “Welcome home, darling,” he called out the open window. 

“Angel,” came back the response, rather more alarmed than he had been expecting. “We have a problem!” 

Aziraphale leaned out the window and groaned at what he saw. Crowley was walking towards the house, arms laden with gardening supplies. A trail of ducklings followed him up the path, cheeping softly. “Oh no, not again.”

He kissed Crowley’s cheek when he reached the window. “So, my love, how exactly did you get us into this mess?” 

**Author's Note:**

> Art by the amazing Penemue (Gearsmoke), fic written by Scmnz, with beta reading done by Dashicra1, hapaxnym, and Gearsmoke. Thank you all.
> 
> Do not attempt to raise wild animals at home unless you are an occult or ethereal entity, or a trained professional. I did my best to research the best methods and make it time-period accurate, but I’m not an expert. 
> 
> The bulk of my information on raising Badger cubs came from the show wildlife SOS.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WsBOT6erCQM&list=PLUo6ZmXmPR_UOhvaHMmILoS7bnu13IgK6  
> https://www.youtube.com/user/TheWildlifeAidTV  
> https://vimeo.com/ondemand/wildlifesos9/178359976?autoplay=1


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